(Danielle)
The next morning, Aaron was with me when I opened my locker.
I didn’t even get the locker fully open before I saw it—another note. But this time, the creep had really stepped it up.
Instead of handwriting, they'd used magazine clippings to form the message. Bright, colorful letters cut from headlines and ads, as if that somehow made it more playful, more theatrical. Like this was a game.
Do you feel me around? I am always around. Always watching.
A chill skated down my spine.
Aaron snatched the note before I could, his jaw locked. “f**k this,” he muttered, crumpling it in his hand before smoothing it back out. “This is getting out of hand.”
“I know,” I whispered, my voice thin. My chest was tight again, like something heavy had settled on it overnight and wouldn’t lift.
